


A Good Stiff Drink

by MarshmallowBirb



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mild Blood, this fic is explicit y'all know what's up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowBirb/pseuds/MarshmallowBirb
Summary: An average argument between Steak and Red Wine turns into something far more obscene.





	A Good Stiff Drink

* * *

Shimmering droplets floated through the air, catching the sunlight like crystals. The sounds of heavy breathing were only interrupted by the swish of steel slicing a path through the air. The spicy fragrance of tea roses mingled with the masculine scent of sweat and blood.

And Red Wine hated all of it.

“Hate" may not have been the best word to describe it exactly. “Resented" may have been closer to the truth, or that it irritated him. As he stood underneath the cool, shady stone archway leading into the garden of the villa they had bought with the inheritance from their old Master Attendants, Red Wine could clearly see the source of his irritation. He lifted his nearly ever-present wine glass to his lips and sipped, eyes sharp and narrow.

That damned Steak was out there, swinging his sword at nothing like an idiot.

Red Wine knew he called it “training", but he also felt that it was in reality an extension of Steak’s vanity. He fancied himself a gallant knight, noble and upstanding, almost like a child playing dress up. It was a silly diversion and Red Wine had no time for that sort of macho nonsense. An uncharitable interpretation to be sure, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable at the moment.

But a small part of him thought, as disgusting as the sight was, that it was charming in its own way. And he resented that, too.

“You can join me, you know.”

The barbarian hadn’t even bothered to walk over before speaking – although truthfully, it was just as well that he hadn’t. Red Wine could smell his sweat – and the blood flowing through his veins – from where he was standing. Either would have been more irritation than he could be expected to bear, but together… It was better that Steak remain where he was.

“I can’t be bothered,” came the sneered reply. Steak snorted.

“Your blade will get rusty if you don’t use it, you know.”

Red Wine pushed away from the cool stone wall he’d been leaning against. He wouldn’t be provoked into leaving the shade, but he was certainly _feeling_ provoked.

“On the contrary,” he retorted, “I’d rather not waste my energy on petty games like this.” Steak sheathed his sword with a huff.

“Well, now I don’t feel like it anymore, either,” he grumbled. “You’ve ruined my mood, you scoundrel.” Red Wine felt his hackles rise.

“Don’t blame me for your lack of diligence,” he shot back over the rim of his glass. “If you’re going to play at training, follow it all the way through or don’t bother.” Steak gave him a sharp glare and walked towards him. But much to Red Wine’s chagrin, rather than stopping to confront him, the horned man simply walked past. As he did so, he shoved Red Wine with his bare shoulder; it was only barely disguised as an accident. The redhead threw a glance back at his reluctant companion and the corner of his mouth turned up with just the barest hint of a smile. Red Wine grit his teeth. He didn’t know what the worse insult was; the intentional “accident" or the smell of Steak’s sweat now clinging to his beautiful jacket. He was absolutely disgusted.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Steak called dismissively. Like hell.

Like hell was Red Wine going to let him get away with that sort of disrespect. Even as the horned man disappeared into the hallway leading back to his quarters, Red Wine stomped after him. His irritation wouldn’t allow him to drop the argument. They were going to settle this today.

“You absolute barbarian!” he spat, sliding out of his jacket and folding it over the crook of his right arm. “You uncultured swine! I’ll now have to have my jacket cleaned! How will you take responsibility?” Steak had already disappeared into his room and shut the door behind him, but Red Wine would not be deterred this time. He was itching for a quarrel, and by the gods, he would have one!

Rather than simply stand and yell into the door, as he had done many times over the years, he turned the knob and walked right in, discarding both wine glass and jacket on the table by the door. Of course Steak couldn’t be bothered to lock his door, either; more arrogance, Red Wine decided.

The bull-man had already thrown his sweaty training shirt into the floor and was in the process of sliding off his pants when Red Wine swung the door inwards. He looked down his nose in disgust. Not only had he missed the hamper, but Steak had no business looking as tempting as he did. It wasn’t odd to be able to see his stomach; he left it bare most of the time, not a care in the world who might see those ridiculously chiseled abdominal muscles. But now Red Wine could clearly see his sculpted legs and tight ass. From the angle he was viewing him, he could just barely see his front side as well, but it was all hanging out in the open, too.

He didn’t even have the good manners to look ashamed.

“You could knock, you know,” Steak said flatly. He turned, giving the black-haired man a full view of his front. Red Wine caught sight of the other man’s naked rod, swinging gently with the motion of his turn. His eyes snapped back up to meet Steak’s face with a glare.

“Would you have answered?” he asked sharply. He ignored the disgusting feelings that the sight of his naked companion stirred inside him and focused instead on his anger.

“Of course not,” Steak shrugged the question off. He found his towel, left hanging over the back of his desk chair, and slung it around his hips. His nonchalance made Red Wine hate him even more.

Well, again… perhaps “hate" wasn’t the right word for it. But Red Wine resented whatever the feeling was supposed to be.

“You see?” he shot back, stomping over into the redhead’s personal space. “Why would I rather yell into a door than your face? Don’t assume I’m the same type of simpleton as you! If I feel the need to speak with you, then I will!” Steak’s lip curled over his teeth.

“What is your problem today, you cur?!” He instinctively backed away a step and Red Wine followed right along. “You stare at me while I train, sulking in the shadows, then act like a spoiled brat when I try to talk to you! Have you any wonder why I’d want to shove you?”

This backed Red Wine up half a pace. Perhaps his own behavior had been less than exemplary, but he felt completely justified. The two of them had been together for years, grating each others’ nerves. They were in practice nearly every bit as married as their old Master Attendants had been, but without the intimacy and with far more argument.

“Because you irritate me, as usual!” Red Wine shot back. “With this false sense of nobility, like a child! Just watching you gets under my skin!” Steak’s eyes narrowed; if it had been anyone else, Red Wine would have thought he saw a glimmer of understanding pass across his face. But he knew for certain that with Steak, that couldn’t be the case.

“Then why watch me like you do?” Steak asked, a suspicious glint in his eye. The question stole Red Wine’s breath. Why _did_ he continue watching when it irritated him so? It wasn’t even that he just coincidentally came across Steak, either; if he didn’t see him for too long, he would seek him out, only to be annoyed by him just as well. It usually ended with the two of them throwing punches.

“Well, that's…” He really had no answer. He realized it, then hissed under his breath, bringing his thumb to his mouth in a sort of nervous gesture. There was no way to answer this without sounding as though he actually enjoyed watching Steak, was there?

Because a part of him, a part he was increasingly realizing he was disgusted by, really did enjoy watching Steak flex his muscles.

“I have to make sure you aren’t doing anything stupid.” It didn’t even sound convincing to Red Wine. And for as little as he thought of Steak’s intelligence, he doubted he bought it either.

“Every time I train?”

Now it was Steak’s turn to invade Red Wine’s personal space. He stepped towards the shorter man; since Red Wine refused to back down, though, they were mere centimeters from each other now. Red Wine nearly sputtered a denial, but Steak stopped him by wrapping his hand around his cravat.

“If you want to fight me, then you only have to say so.” Steak’s voice was low and dangerous; it was a confusing tone from him, to be sure. He was usually loud and comically non-threatening, as far as Red Wine was concerned.

“But I don’t want to disrespect _their_ last wishes,” he continued, pinning his partner with a smoldering glare. Red Wine knew exactly to what Steak referred. On her deathbed, Red Wine’s Master Attendant had made him swear to look after this idiot; her husband, Steak’s master, had elicited a similar promise from him.

“Did you have to bring that up?” Red Wine hissed. He really didn’t want to think about that in such a tense situation as they were in at the moment.

“Then what is it?!” Steak very nearly yelled. “You don’t want to fight, you don’t want to train, and you only came by to needle me! What is it that you want?!” Red Wine raised his hand to remove Steak’s from his cravat, but as his hand wrapped around the other man’s it lingered there. Steak’s hand was hot, distractingly so, and Red Wine hesitated to pull him away. The words were stuck in his throat. But Steak seemed to have drawn a conclusion, if the look on his face was any indication.

“Wait…”

“Don’t you dare,” Red Wine admonished, eyes narrowing. But Steak’s gaze was as hot as his skin.

“You…”

“Don’t even think it.”

“Like hell I won’t!” Steak bellowed, shaking him by the collar. “Is that it?! You stupid idiot! Is that why you’re such a bastard to me?!” Red Wine finally squeezed his wrist and released himself, encroaching again into Steak’s space and forcing him back. He wouldn’t allow him to speak such profanities; if he said the words, they were more likely to become reality, and Red Wine didn’t think he could bear that.

“If I’m a bastard to you, it’s because you deserve it!” he fired back. “How arrogant do you have to be to think such things!? If I wanted you, I would have you! What is there to admire about you?! Your body? Your voice? Your pigheadedness?” Regardless of his words, though, Red Wine could feel his face flush as though he’d had too much to drink. But it was entirely likely that Steak didn’t even need to see that; the lie was obvious in his words. Steak was well-aware that his looks were admirable. That was never his problem.

“Liar,” Steak answered him simply. Just that one word was enough to nearly send Red Wine into a rage - not because the accusation was untrue, but because it was entirely too accurate. His eyes flashed as he continued trying to deny the obvious.

“Why would I lie?” Red Wine spat back. “Just because I watch you train doesn’t mean–“ Steak didn’t let him finish.

The horned man twisted his fist into Red Wine’s cravat, pulling him against his chest. Getting sweat on his clothes was the least of his concerns at the moment, though. While he could feel Steak’s firm pecs and stomach through his shirt, Steak had also crushed his lips against Red Wine’s. This wasn’t a shy or awkward kiss by any means; it was hungry, hot, and aggressive. It was entirely possible that every bit of irritation Steak had been feeling was being channeled into kissing Red Wine into silence at that moment, and Red Wine couldn’t honestly say he disliked it.

But he could at least pretend to himself that he did.

That was a thin façade, though. Steak’s hot mouth, parting his own and invading it with his tongue, was overpowering him. His musky scent, stronger now from sweat and exertion, filled Red Wine’s nostrils and nearly made his head swim. He covered the hand securing him against Steak’s chest again, with no intention of pushing him away this time.

Something within Red Wine was coming undone. Every untoward thought he might have had about his companion up until now was completely squashed without mercy. Every inkling he had, every spark of sexual desire, Red Wine had ruthlessly crushed before it could grow into something more, pulling it out like a weed. But now, with Steak pressing against him, undoing his vest buttons, those feelings were bubbling up again. The familiar revulsion tried to fight against it like usual, but the stronger feeling was desire and something new – something closer to acceptance. Something that encouraged him to kiss back just as viciously.

Perhaps a bit _too_ viciously; his enthusiasm led him to snap against Steak’s bottom lip just a bit too hard, drawing blood. It was only a drop or two, mixed with saliva, but that was all it took for Red Wine. He pulled back as though he were the one who was bitten, leaving Steak looking a bit confused. He didn’t even seem to realize Red Wine had drawn blood for a few moments before licking his lips and tasting it there.

“Dammit,” Red Wine hissed, covering his mouth. Was it the kiss or the drop of blood that was causing the strain in his pants? Either way, his head felt hazy with lust. Having successfully suppressed his disgust, he was afraid his desire would run unchecked. What would that look like? Attacking Steak? Attacking Gingerbread or the local humans? Could he even trust himself to try satisfying his carnal urges without giving in to bloodlust?

He was brought back to the moment by Steak’s breath on his cheek.

“It didn’t hurt.”

His voice was even and hot. He also went right back to undoing Red Wine’s vest, eventually moving to his necktie.

“And if you tried to attack me, I’d stop you.”

“Bastard.”

Contrary to what he’d just said, Red Wine wasn’t angry at Steak at all. In fact, that was exactly what he needed to hear at that moment. That drop of blood – it _was_ delicious. More than that, it was intoxicating, and with no disgust to hold him back, he wanted more. More of Steak’s blood, but even past that, more of Steak’s body. He could feel the other man’s erection through his loosely wrapped towel, pressing insistently against his hip. More heady than the raw physical attraction, though, was the realization that Steak knew how Red Wine felt and he accepted it. He hadn’t yelled or pushed him away; he hadn’t admonished his disgusting desires. He had simply looked them in the eye, considered them, and nodded his acceptance.

“I can stop, if you want,” Steak murmured, his voice husky. “You can walk out of this room and forget I said anything.” His hands said something different, though; they were now occupied with Red Wine’s belt, making steady progress towards undoing his pants. In return, Red Wine brought his free hand to Steak’s stomach to feel the hard muscle flexing beneath the hot skin.

“Like hell,” Red Wine hissed, spreading his fingers and sliding his hand toward his prize. “You started this, you little cocktease. You know very well that I want you, don’t you?” Saying it like that, speaking it out into reality, was freeing. Rather than the fear he had previously felt at confronting those dangerous feelings, there was a rush of anticipation. And even as his partner trailed kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, Red Wine could feel his teeth.

“Who started what?” Steak grumbled back. “From where I’m standing, you started this with your staring.” Steak finally reached his target, tugging Red Wine’s fine cotton shirt free of his pants and roughly shoving his hand inside. Red Wine could have complained at the indelicate treatment; instead, he opted to return it in kind, his gloved hand coiling around Steak’s thick, hot member. As he began to stroke, the silken skin shifting beneath his palm, he also began to move them back towards the edge of the bed. Steak’s towel, that afterthought of modesty, was left in a heap in the floor.

Finally, Steak’s thighs met the bed. With only a little effort, Red Wine forced him to sit. It wasn’t as though Steak was being exactly passive, either; he had worked Red Wine’s pants down over his hips with one hand while grasping his cock roughly inside his boxers. The pawing he was being given was inordinately inelegant, but the roughness suited Red Wine well, too. Not that he would admit that openly.

“You act so goodly and innocent,” Red Wine observed with a toothy smile. “But this was what you wanted this whole time, wasn’t it? How filthy.” Although his words were condescending in content, his tone cleanly conveyed that he was actually quite enthusiastic about Steak’s hidden proclivities. Steak glared up at him, but his grip on his cock didn’t waver.

“And what of you?” he asked sweetly. “If you didn’t want me, why has your dick gotten this hard?” His strokes were firm and confident, nearly causing Red Wine to succumb to him on the spot. But no, there was more he needed to do.

“Who said I dislike this dirty side of you?” With a gentle but firm touch, he released Steak and moved his hands from his own erection. Then, he began ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. First one shoe and then the other, then his shirt and gloves. Finally, he slid his pants down his legs, complete with his boxers, freeing his erection to feel the warm, early afternoon air. Each piece as it was removed found itself draped across Steak’s chair.

“If I knew you liked it, I would’ve done this sooner.” Steak himself sat on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his hands and watching attentively. Red Wine thought with a smirk that he had found another good quality to Steak – that when he was interested in something, he was quite diligent. Of course, he knew that, though; he’d seen the man work quite hard when he was motivated. But seeing it illustrated so intimately and directed towards him was quite a different matter. Well, it wasn’t a bad thing to be admired if it was by Steak.

Finally free of the constraints of his clothing, Red Wine straddled Steak’s lap. With his knees on either side of Steak’s hips and pressing into the bedsheets, it was an easy matter to face him down. In short order, Red Wine descended upon his mouth for more hungry kisses; having easy access to Steak’s cock was another advantage. He wasted no time in returning to lavishing it with affection with his hands as well.

Steak, on the other hand, placed both hands firmly on Red Wine’s ass and gave it a nice, hard squeeze. He couldn’t say he found it unpleasant; quite the contrary. The pressure from Steak’s hands sent sparks up his spine. Red Wine groaned his approval into the other man’s mouth. Momentarily, though, Steak pulled out of their kiss.

“Do you want me inside of you?”

Red Wine would never have admitted it, but he only vaguely understood what Steak was asking him. Even as Steak kneaded his rear, spreading him gently, he wasn’t sure of the specifics. Perhaps it was due to the difference in their Master Attendants; a man spending his time mostly escorting young nobleladies would naturally have been less exposed to such masculine activities.

“I didn’t realize you had experience with this,” Red Wine remarked with a smirk. In reality, he was hiding his own inexperience, but Steak didn’t need to know that. Although he most probably already did.

“I don’t,” he confessed easily. “But knights talk. I know what to do.”

To whit, Steak released Red Wine with one hand and brought that hand to his mouth. He pushed past the other man’s lips and Red Wine obliged him by sucking his two first fingers. Once they were well-coated with saliva, Steak withdrew them with a devious grin. He returned his hand to its previous spot on Red Wine’s ass, but with one crucial difference: his middle finger, wet with spit, was now pressed firmly against the soft ring of skin that stayed hidden there. Red Wine quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

“I’ll enter here,” Steak explained earnestly, “If you relax, it’s supposed to be quite enjoyable.”

“Ridiculous,” Red Wine scoffed automatically. No sooner had the word left his lips than Steak pressed his finger inwards, the spit giving him an easy passage. It nearly stole Red Wine’s breath; Steak’s finger had no business feeling as good as it did. He groaned through gritted teeth as Steak continued to work him further open. As he did so, he pulled Red Wine further up his stomach, freeing his cock to sit underneath him, right between the cheeks of his ass.

Red Wine wanted to be disgusted; at least that’s what a small voice within told him. But in reality, what Steak was doing felt amazing. His own cock was pressed between their stomachs, squeezed tight and coated with a slick layer of precum. As the two of them moved together to kiss again, it was as though he was being stroked from the front.

“Is it, though?” Steak breathed against Red Wine’s lips, voice low and husky. “You seem to enjoy this.” Red Wine nipped at him in response, nearly drawing blood again. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if he did.

“Just shut up and put your cock in,” he grumbled. He wanted to think Steak was much more tolerable when he was quiet, but Red Wine knew the truth: that if Steak was quiet, he’d be boring. Either way, if his finger was that pleasant, surely his much larger member would be exquisitely pleasing.

The redhead chuckled deep in his throat and for once in his life actually listened to Red Wine. He withdrew his finger and before Red Wine had the opportunity to really miss it, he could feel the hot, fleshy head of Steak’s rod pressing against his soft entrance. Slowly, slowly, he pressed into that tight ring of muscle, entering little by little. The spit helped, of course, but it was hardly as easy as his finger had been.

“Didn’t I say to relax?” Steak fussed, his voice almost a hiss. Red Wine had left off with kissing, opting instead to bury his face into Steak’s neck. The feeling of being entered was overwhelming, of course, but stronger still was the ever-present musk of sweat and salt that still clung to the man’s skin. Red Wine could feel his strong pulse thumping beneath his lips as well; that awareness alone was almost enough to totally distract him from the pleasure he was feeling down below. Even still, as Steak sunk further into him, his hot manhood invading Red Wine’s body, he couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped his lips.

Finally, he was stretched to his limit and sitting firmly in Steak’s lap. If he tensed his muscles at all, he could feel the man’s entire length within him, sending a flow of continuous pleasure throughout his body. And as if nothing could heighten that feeling, Steak began to move within him.

“Damn you,” Red Wine huffed. There was no bite to his words, though. As Steak thrust up into him, Red Wine likewise rode his partner. Not only was he being stimulated from behind, but that dampness against his stomach was growing, making his own cock glide deliciously between them.

“If you don’t like it,” Steak breathed, obviously feeling quite enraptured himself as he pumped, “I can always stop….” Red Wine instantly snapped at his neck at the threat; not hard enough to draw blood, but _oh_ , wouldn’t it be delightful if it was? If he made him bleed, would he be able to stop himself? He certainly didn’t want to stop what they were doing right then.

“Don’t you dare, you cur,” he growled, fingers digging into Steak’s muscled shoulders. “If you stop now, I really will murder you.” Steak chuckled and actually did begin to withdraw from Red Wine. The black-haired man hissed his disapproval.

“Just for that,” the redhead returned smugly, “I get to be on top.” He acted with a swiftness and grace that Red Wine never would’ve expected from him. In short order, he found himself on his back, legs spread and closer to the middle of the bed. Steak hovered above him, his eyes smoldering, sweat trickling over his skin.

“I don’t care where you are,” Red Wine fussed back at him. “Just get back inside me.” Steak barely suppressed a laugh, clearly enjoying himself, but he did as he was told. He lined himself up, worked himself back in, and was pumping away again in a matter of moments. Then his hands were cradling the backs of Red Wine’s knees, holding them open. Red Wine would have been fascinated that it was much easier for Steak to enter him the second time, but to be honest, he was too busy enjoying it to care. The only thing to complain about was that Steak was even more slick with sweat now.

“And… don’t sweat on me…” His voice was breathy and as needy as he felt at the moment. He relaxed into the larger man, wanting to feel as much of him as he could from the inside. Even still, he couldn’t help his brattiness.

“You saying that makes me _want_ to sweat on you,” Steak chuckled even as he drove himself inside over and over. Red Wine glared, but it was half-hearted at best. He was rather more engaged with the pounding he was receiving below.

“If you do… I really will bite you… you bastard…” Steak must have known it was an empty threat, because his smile turned just ever-so-slightly more devious.

“What a terrible attitude,” he panted, “Just for that… I’m going to come before you do!” Red Wine gasped, his hands traveling back to Steak’s biceps. They felt firm, flexing as he moved, and it encouraged Red Wine to dig his fingers in.

“Bastard! I won’t let you! I’ll be first!” His eyes burned as he pulled the larger man closer over his body. He’d missed the friction of his cock being pressed between them since they switched positions, and it was time to rectify that. If Steak was going to make it a contest to see who could climax first, Red Wine would never let himself be outclassed – especially since the other man’s orgasm would most likely mean an end to their tryst.

Their next kiss was harder than any of the previous ones. Both were hungry with the new spark of competition between them, neither wanting to give mercy. Of course, the pleasure from the deep fucking Red Wine was receiving helped spur him on as well.

Steak’s rhythm was steady, slow, and forceful. The nearly inhuman consistency was what Red Wine enjoyed the most; he leaned into it, pressed himself against Steak’s hard abdomen, drowning in the pleasure both on his cock and inside his ass. Since neither had much to say at the moment, the silence was only broken by the heavy sounds of their panting, the creak of the strained bed frame, and the occasional moan.

Their kiss was just as deep as Steak’s strokes. Red Wine didn’t give it much coherent thought; rather, he finally understood instinctively how his partner felt. Had he only been honest with himself years ago, they could have done this much sooner. Steak was all too willing. He had probably waited for Red Wine to acknowledge him all this time, becoming prickly and defensive whenever Red Wine needled him instead. Rather than feel regret at this realization, it was satisfying and decadent. There was nothing stopping them from doing this every afternoon from here on out if they pleased.

The promise of future encounters sent a wave of pleasure through Red Wine’s body. He groaned deep within his throat; he was close now, he could feel it. At this rate, he really would beat Steak to his orgasm. In his excitement, he kissed Steak even harder, hands moving from his firm biceps to his hard shoulders, all the way to his flushed cheeks. The kiss was hot, wet, and delicious. Perhaps a bit too delicious; Red Wine nipped him too hard and broke the skin on his lip again.

There was a long moment, stretched taut over the edge of desire and revulsion. Red Wine teetered, unable to decide on which side he would fall. He knew he should stop, should pull away from that kiss, maybe even from the whole situation. But overwhelmingly, he found that he didn’t want to. The pit of his stomach ached, burning with need from that small taste of Steak’s blood.

What pushed him over the edge into his desires was the realization that that small taste was all he really needed. Just acknowledging that it was delicious, that it was pleasurable, and that he wouldn’t become an uncontrollable monster just from that taste allowed him to fully accept the ecstasy he felt at the moment.

Contrary to what Red Wine had believed up until that day, their kiss went from hot and fierce to warm and gentle. Although Steak must have known he’d drawn blood again, he didn’t acknowledge it; rather, his breath was ragged even as his thrusts grew uneven and sharper. And as he returned Red Wine’s soft, luxurious kiss, he too seemed to be leaning into that wonderful feeling.

He was swimming in that delicious sensation; therefore, it came as no real surprise when he was overtaken by those splendid waves of heat. They started where he was joined with Steak, gathered there, and spread through him like water. The jolts pulsed through his shaft, too, culminating in a thick white puddle spreading between his stomach and Steak’s. He barely noticed that Steak also had gone still, his only movement the throbbing within Red Wine, flooding him with inner heat. No, their kiss, now turned languid and slow, was far more important.

“I win,” he murmured against Steak’s lips, his own curling into a smile. Steak didn’t bother to stop kissing him; rather, he mirrored that smile.

“Did you, though?” To whit, he gave the smaller man another lazy stroke, this one lubricated by the juice that had poured into him from his new lover. Red Wine considered this for a moment. He knew he needed to wash himself now, what with the sweat and other bodily fluids they’d both collected just then. On the other hand, even as Steak slid out of him, half-hard now, it still felt absolutely divine. It was a deep contradiction and Red Wine realized that his best option might have been to simply accept that both were true: that something could simultaneously be repulsive and oh-so-desirable.

Just like Steak.

“A tie, then,” he compromised. Maybe Steak wouldn’t understand his double-meaning, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t really need to, and he seemed to easily accept Red Wine’s proposal.

“Then we’ll have to settle this later,” Steak practically purred. Red Wine couldn’t help returning his devious smile again.

“As many times as we need to,” he returned, stroking his chin with a well-manicured nail. “But for right now, get off of me. I want a bath.”

“Bastard.”

“Cur.”

But both insults were delivered with a smile.

As Steak withdrew, allowing Red Wine to push himself from the mattress, he turned his head and seemed to catch something of interest. Red Wine followed his gaze, seeing what had intrigued him. It was past their shed clothes and the towel laying in a crumpled pile in the floor.

The bedroom door was now closed.

“Red Wine,” Steak said slowly, the gears in his mind clearly turning. “Did you… close that door?”

Obviously, he had not.

* * *

By sheer coincidence, however, Gingerbread couldn’t speak to Red Wine without laughing under her breath for at least a week.


End file.
